


No Other Loss

by billspilledquill



Series: Negation [1]
Category: Death Note & Related Fandoms, Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Canon Autistic Character, First Meeting, M/M, Missing Scenes, Scars, Seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:22:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27038644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/billspilledquill/pseuds/billspilledquill
Summary: “Because Light-kun is the first person I ever liked.”L knows exactly why Yagami Light is lying: L lies, too.
Relationships: L/Yagami Light
Series: Negation [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1973404
Comments: 6
Kudos: 101





	No Other Loss

**Author's Note:**

> This is more of an accompaniment of Scheming Swindlers, but can probably be read as a stand alone. This story has been rotting in my folder even before I began the conception of the other fic, so yeah enjoy L’s perspective on Light’s wacky intelligence and later attempted seduction....?

_  
Quodcumque ligaveris super terram, erit ligatum etin coelis: et quodcumque solveris super terram, erit solutum et in coelis._

_  
Prelapsarian_

It wasn’t so much divine intervention as divine boredom, L reasoned. Paul letters to the Corinthians: a mere suggestion of facts, and a childish murderer with the will to act upon them. In a lucid dream, L could have had faced the same exact dilemma. A world-class terrorist with an affinity to mind games, the adrenaline, the high stakes; the matter of plunging a blade down someone’s throat and watch it burst asunder. God’s will. Call it holy, call it good. 

The sixty-four cameras made the profile of a teenager with a magazine composed mainly of pictures of scarcely clad-women. Yagami Soichiro closed his eyes with a half-relieved, half-embarrassed sigh.

“I did not know my son would pertain in such… obscenities,” the boy’s father admitted. “He dates, of course, like any boy of his age, but never had he shown interest like— well, _this_.”

“It would be usual for a seventeen-year-old not to tell everything to his family,” L said. “Although I must say, your son is only looking. He doesn’t look exactly enticed.”

The man gave a jolt, almost bouncing off from his seat. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to see Light…”

“If he does, Yagami-san is perfectly allowed to excuse himself from this room,” L said. “Although I doubt your son will. He doesn’t seem to be swayed by that magazine of his.”

Soichiro’s hand seemed willing to cover his face, but it fell on his sides trembling instead. “I don’t think my son is Kira, L.”

He didn’t _think_. For his daughter he was _sure_.

“Ryuzaki,” L corrected, his eyes unmoving from the screen. “As I said, Yagami-san, your son is not doing anything suspicious. If anything, your son is perfect, as I am sure you’re aware.”

Soichiro’s eyes flashed when he turned to the monitor, Light’s gaze shading by his fringe, his posture exactly the same he imposed himself when studying for his entrance exam. A perfect practitioner of vice and virtue; the boy surprised him in his everyday brilliance. It astonished. 

“Light had never ceased to surprise us,” Soichiro echoed. He stared at his hands. “Especially me, who never had the time to be there when he grew up. And now... It’s all on his mother, really.”

“Yagami-san said that his son wants to join NPA. Surely that is his influence.”

“Light takes up everything on his own. I didn’t persuade him. He is just… brilliant.”

L supposed that the praise had gone to Soichiro’s head, any residue of pride in a parent for having an exceptionally capable child. The tight rings around the eyes told L a different story, one that L was familiar with. “And yet you wouldn’t clear your son’s name as you did for your daughter,” L said. In the monitor, Light had closed the magazine with a sigh, murmuring about being deceived by the cover. “Why is that?”

Soichiro’s eyes followed his son’s retreating figure, crouching down to hide the magazine on the shelf. “Sayu is not Kira. I am sure of it. I am willing to bet my life on it.”

“But not your son.”

“Of course I will protect Light with my life.”

L laid his head on his folded knees. “Please answer the question, Yagami-san.”

Those rings. Dark and taunt and carved into skin. The unraveling of doubt, a suspicion that L was familiar with. “I said my son never ceases to astonish,” Soichiro said, his eyes boring into the screen. He had forgotten who he was speaking to.

“When he was ten he sewed Sayu a dress,” Soichiro continued. “His mother said that Light made it in one afternoon. At eleven the teacher advised us about his English skills. He was fluent before we knew it. Then he learned… French? Chinese? He never tells us, he never brags. He was twelve when he was a Junior tennis champion. He could have gone pro. We didn’t want him to, and he didn’t protest. He just does what he is told— but he does it better than anyone else, so much so that he stands out, that no matter where he is, no matter who he is with, Light comes out first.” He looked at L with something akin to despair. “He always comes out first.”

L didn’t understand, not exactly. “It sounds like an accusation.” He craned his neck. “Is that what fathers say of their sons?”

Soichiro’s sunken eyes glanced at him briefly before shutting up. “I’m giving you information about your suspect,” he said, “who _happens_ to be my son.”

“Brilliance terrifies. Yagami-san is hardly the first one that expressed fear in that regard.”

Soichiro’s hand reached his pocket. There was a coin there, some kind of small, useless object. A retrograde way of showcasing distress and anxiety by rubbing on it, to pertain familiarity, of comfort. Easy people to read. “No,” Soichiro said.

“No?”

“No,” Soichiro said. “Why did you install so many cameras in his room? Sayu only has eight.”

L made a show to pause. “Do you think he will notice them?”

“Is that your intention?”

L dipped his head, his finger twisting on the muted microphone. “What more do you know about your son?”

The cameras captured Light stretching with one arm over his head. He was yawning because a student of his age and caliber should be tired. He was cleaning his desk because he was a good son, but not too much to be different from other good sons, other good students. Yagami Light stood out because he was perfect in his mundanity. Yagami Light knew exactly how easy it was to read people, and acted like one of them.

He asked, “Do you know your son, Yagami-san?”

“The unknown,” Soichiro said, “is much more terrifying.”

“Your son believes that there is nothing wrong with himself,” L said. Light appeared on screen six. It was exactly six o’clock and one. He supposed that one minute was deliberate, too. Light grabbed a towel. It was routine.

“I don’t know how he knows the hour… there’s not even a clock in his room…”

Light stepped into the bathroom with a bundle of spare clothes. Soichiro would stand up in the next two minutes. He will excuse himself, L thought distantly, already hearing the scuffle of his seat. L’s finger swirled around the stem of the microphone before asking, “Your son doesn’t have a watch of any kind?”

Light shut the shower curtains. L had installed two cameras inside the bath, so they weren’t much use other than shutting off the water leak. Soichiro was already on his feet.

“Perhaps you should give him one,” L said.

Soichiro’s steps faltered. “What do you mean?”

L pointed his own wrist idly. “A watch, Yagami-san. Your son seems to enjoy routine.”

Soichiro’s eyes narrowed behind his back, surely. Easy people to read. In the shower, Yagami Light had picked up a bottle of shampoo, his body relaxed easily with his hair plastered on the sides of his face.

“What is your reasoning behind this?”

“I’m just suggesting gifting your son a watch, nothing malicious. From what I know, Yagami-kun is graduating soon.”

The voice behind him was stern, somehow feeble. It sounded like defeat. “I wanted to gift him something for his graduation,” Soichiro admitted. “I couldn’t think of a single thing. Not a single one. And here’s a detective suspecting my son of being a serial killer suggesting something that I never thought of. A watch is a great idea, L.”

“Ryuzaki,” L said. “Do let me see me it, before Yagami-san gives it to his son.”

“Ryuzaki,” Soichiro said. He might have bowed; he might just want to hide his face. “Contact me if there is any development.”

“Yes,” L said, and the door shut close. Far away, the sound of water resumed, and Light placed a towel to his hair, shadowing his forehead, his eyes bright against the yellowed light on high. No, L concluded. Yagami Light knew exactly who he was. He knew exactly what L knew of him.

In the morning of the entrance exam, Light was eating a French toast with a glass of milk, the chaos around him as he ate meticulously slowly. His father was absent. Watari already parked the car downstairs. L stayed glued to the monitors, the taste of his raspberry cake lingering in his mouth, a clean plate in front of him.

Sayu jumped up and down her chair despite her mother’s protests. “You’re going to ace this, Light! I bet 1000 yen with my friend, so you better-”

“Sayu!”

The girl’s expression soured. “Oh, c’mon, mom! You know that Light will get the first place… what’s wrong with making a little profit off it?”

“Don’t bother your brother right now! Can’t you see that he’s concentrating?”

Light took a small bite of his toast, chewed it extensively. He looked up. “I don’t have to concentrate to eat breakfast, mom.”

“Oh, Light.” She set down the plate. “Aren’t you stressed? Do you need anything? Such an important event and your father isn’t here…”

“Father is busy with work,” Light said. He cleaned his hand with a napkin. “Besides, I don’t need anything. I am grateful for you and Sayu, mom.” He folded the napkin, stood up with a smile that made L understand why Soichiro was afraid of suspecting his son. _Afraid of his son._ There was beauty in terror. Something ancient about this idea, L thought, chewing on skin. Something eternal about it.

“I am off,” Light said. “I will get you that pocket money, Sayu.”

She gave him a thumbs up. “Thanks!”

L walked downstairs with the car’s door wide open. Watari bowed, and L got in, pointedly ignoring the smell of expensive leather, and crouched on his seat. The engine groaned softly to life, and when L arrived, facing the tall, dull walls, L thought about how he should have come later. He had no business in waiting in line for a boring exam, but that seemed to be Light’s plan, or should be, considering the bored profile that he witnessed his morning, so L had decided on another. The goal was different. Their goals should be different, for today, at least.

“You have never tracked down a suspect this way before,” Watari said. L caught his wrinkled eye in the rear mirror. He would seek that gaze when a child; he had looked away just as quickly.

“This case is different.” The scenery of Japan was crowded. Full. Easy people. “Yagami’s son is a monster.”

“That is also an accusation I have never heard you make about a suspect before.”

“The worst monsters are liars,” L said. Beside them, the engine groaned, and cars rushed through.

L moved his toes on the desk and made a dent on the skin of his thumb. The back of Yagami Light’s head was before him, the boy’s arm moved steadily to the sound of the pencil against paper.

“Keep your feet off the table, please.”

It was different from the monitors. The man turned, and Light’s gaze was hidden again, shuttered by the crumpled shirt of the professor. There was not a wrinkle in Light’s suit, and he was looking at him.

“And you,” the man said. “Return to your test, number 167.”

When the man left, Light had already done what he was told.

Light’s head stayed put throughout the exam, his elbow on his desk half of the time, his profile inclined to the window, his hair curling around his ears. He didn’t look back once. L finished the exam at the same time as him.

The window drooped with branches, littered with Sakura. Japan was full of beauty, L thought. Japan was full of monsters.

Light’s face dipped to the ground, then up again, towards the window. They were looking at the same thing.

When the students shuffled to their feet, the anxiety marring their faces, Light was still sitting on his desk, his elbow firmly in place.

“You two.” The man was gathering the paper, looking just as exhausted. “The exam is finished.”

“Yes,” Light said. His face shifted from the window; it was only polite to stare at the person that you addressed. He stood up with the same grace he sat down, two minutes before the start of the test, strolling in casually like one would an afternoon brunch. “Thank you, professor.”

The man nodded and left with a full cartable. Light turned to L with a smile plastered on his face like any poster to glue.

“How did you find the exam?”

L shoved his hands in his pockets. “Disappointing.”

“Oh,” Light said. “I am sure you did well.”

L looked at him. “It was too easy.”

Light blinked, and let out a brief, breathy chuckle. He tilted his head, gesturing to the door. Together they walked out the room, with Light’s lingering smile on his trail.

“Well, if you are so confident, I am sure we will see each other again. My name is Yagami Light. The kanji for moon spells out for Raito.”

“Then Yagami-kun will know my name soon,” L said, “he is the best of his year, after all.”

A twitch of eyebrow was the only indication of annoyance he was offered. “Yes,” Light said, carefully now, “I will see you.” And he extended a hand.

There was apprehension in touching that L did not like. Had not liked. In Light’s gaze was the same apprehension, the same disgust, but at something else. It could be anything; the state of his hair, his eyes, his clothes. The offered hand was clean, the smooth hand of a young student, of an over-accomplished person with an over-bearing future. Lies.

L shook his hand with the distinct feeling that he had when he had looked out the window. When Light had looked out the window and saw the same thing. Sakura. Beauty. Monsters.

“Thank you,” L said, murmuring the last syllable out like a prayer. For a long time, he did not know why.

Light’s hand stilled in his, then released the hold. “Of course.”

Light will never know why, however. L was almost glad that he never will. 

The reaction was hidden from view. When Light turned to him with a polite smile, the reaction was too perfect to be suspicious.

“If you are what you say you are,” Light said, “then I admire for what you are doing.”

They don’t shake hands again, but there seemed to be an urge in Light when he flickered his wrist and settled it on his lap when he sat. In front of them, the ceremony continued, but around them was a silence that wasn’t meant to be broken. L was aware of his position, of the physical space he occupied, of Light’s, and if they were in a prison cell with Light’s hands strapped behind his back and his feet bound, it would have made no difference to the tension in the room.

The flicker of silver caught his attention. L smiled around his thumb.

“It’s a nice watch.”

Light startled. Even the startling could not mean anything. Details that could have meant something were carefully tucked away, where no one can see. Light smiled back, tight-lipped, harsh, his eyes sparkling dutifully bright.

“Thank you,” he said. “My father gifted it for my graduation. He has told great things about you, L.”

Meaningless lie, one that Light didn’t intend to make. Too strapped to social cues, social courtesies. Soichiro had disagreed with L’s methods since the start. The watch flickered. L could have paid for it, but Light wouldn’t have worn it, otherwise. Light will check for bugs. The clock ticked. _10:36_.

L said, “It looks good on him.”

Light inclined his head, a weak pretense at modesty. “Thank you,” he repeated, more insistent now. There was a deliberate pause, and another deliberate “oh” before Light continued, “I almost forgot, what is your name?”

“Ryuga,” L said. “Ryuga Hideki.”

Light hid rage well, L thought, but he was too intent on hiding that all emotions were drained from his face, turning it mull and pale. There was only so much glee in L that was reasonable to show to a Kira suspect. But he smiled, and Light, quiet in his rage, rubbed his hand on his wristwatch, as though to stop time itself.

“ _Are you British?_ ”

L’s tennis racket was handled loosely, it clung to the sweat of the match. “Light-kun is good in English,” L proclaimed, then continued, making sure to hold on to the British tilt of his accent, “ _and he is bold, too_.”

When Light smiled this time, it was almost a grin. “So you are.”

L swung the ball. “Partially. That won’t make Yagami-kun find out L’s nationality, however.” And he hit. 

Light hit back with full force, and the rest of the match went unsaid. The watch glimmered under the light, and the illusionary halo around Light when the sun hid behind deceived. If he were completely British, he might have seen Apollo in that shadow, but L, sweat-drenched and staring, only saw a boy gritting his teeth, with a will as stark as any god, but a boy. A boy that hated losing.

L burnt with the same adrenaline used for chasing down criminals- and he supposed he was, in a way, if he were right- but he was keeping up, L realized. Yagami Light played tennis the same way he played with people, constantly changing the pace, toying with the ball of his wrist, the gears of his mind turning spasmodically, beautifully. Despite his efforts, Light came out impressive.

 _Kira_ , L thought, couldn’t possibly get more impressive than that.

“Good game,” L said afterward, watching Light wipe his brows with his shirt. Some girls appreciated that, judging by how vocal they became.

Light was still looking at him, laughing, and said, “Likewise, Ryuga.”

L barely registered the applause when he noticed the huge crowd beside them.

A girl had walked to Light with a strange expression on her face. Her friends behind her seemed to cheer her on, or at least have very big, very expectant eyes.

“Yagami-kun,” she started. Light’s face turned soft; his eyes hard.

“Yes?”

“That was really cool,” she preened. “Are you joining the tennis club?”

Light glanced at L. “I think Ryuga might be the better candidate. I am already involved with student council and other clubs, so I’m afraid I won’t have time.”

“Yagami-kun flatters.”

“That’s a shame,” she said quickly. She hadn’t even turned an eye to L. “How about joining the drama club?”

“I-"

“Oh, I think Yagami-kun would be very good at it.”

She nodded eagerly. “I think so too! Light can get the main role- we are staging Hamlet this year.”

It was the lack of honorifics that made the boy smile, surely. “I will think about it, Yui.”

“Oh!” she startled. “Yes,” she said. “Yes. Of course.”

“Yagami-kun used the same tactics by calling her by her surname,” L commented. “It made her go away very effectively.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Hideki.”

L leaned his head towards the sun. “Light would make a very good Hamlet,” he said, bringing his racket to his face. “I think he will make a very good tragedy.”

Light huffed. “Shame. We could’ve gone for a fencing match.”

“Maybe next time,” L said thoughtfully. 

Light went to retrieve his bag, ignoring the distressed gasps that what seemed like the president of the tennis club was shooting their way. “Do you care for a shower?”

“No.”

“You stink.”

“Yagami-kun is mean when he can justify it as banter,” L said. 

L did not want to use the shower. He disliked anything that showed skin in general, and the feeling of water spiking down his neck, prickling under. But Light bent down to his sports bag, flung him a towel, and together they went to the shower stalls without a word.

Light had stopped panting as soon as they stepped out of the tennis field, the sweat already wiped away. L could hear the slow inhales and see the slight, transparent glimmer covering the back of his neck. The communal showers were empty. Light undressed, his watch and phone resting silently on a pile of carefully stacked clothes.

Light side-eyed L’s jeans. “I admit that I had an advantage there. I haven’t had anyone play against me dressed like this before.”

He shrugged; his hands still firm in his pockets. “It doesn’t limit my movements.”

“Are you coming?”

“I don’t care for a shower.”

“You’re sweating all over, Ryuga.”

“Surely Yagami-kun can shower alone.”

Light glared, then, as if remembering himself, said, “You’re free to look. I have nothing to hide.”

“I am looking.”

“You’re free to look at my _clothes_ ,” Light gritted out, and walked to the shower with a towel around his waist, the scar branding his bare back, jarring in an otherwise perfectly smooth skin.

The scar behind his back was five years old, L mused, crouching to the bench, grabbing the watch. A thirteen-year-old child with his sister after school, and a drunk driver. Soichiro told him the tale with a pained voice, with a parent’s guilt. How Light had looked unfazed at the hospital, comforting his mother as he was confined to bed. If Yagami Light was Kira, then his hatred for outlaws might stem from there.

Light examined the phone. No, if Yagami Light hated criminals, it would not be something microscopic, _banal_ , easily traced. He rattled the watch, and listened to the odd sound it produced; L had come to expect more of Light than any other convicted criminals he had dealt with in the past. L had come to expect more of Light than Kira. All in all, they had a tennis match, and they have spoken for less than two minutes.

L flipped the phone open when Light came out of the shower.

“Ah,” L said, and made no attempt to move.

Light tilted his head, drying his hair spiking at the ends. Other than that, he looked dry enough to have just taken a sunbath. Light walked before him, spreading his hand. “Found anything interesting?”

L gave the phone back. “Haven’t had the time, but I assume that there’s nothing. Yagami-kun is too clever to make such a base mistake.”

Light had a thin smile. “Don’t you say,” he mumbled. “Give me back my clothes, Ryuga. You’re basically hoarding it.”

L did. “Where are we going next?”

“What makes you think that we’re going somewhere?”

L brought his thumb to his mouth. “I thought Yagami-kun wanted to talk about the Kira case.”

“I do,” Light said, tucking on his shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles. “But what makes you think that we’re going somewhere? We could very well talk here.”

“I suppose Yagami-kun wanted a place with no cameras.”

Light took a brush out of his bag before adjusting his watch on his wrist. “Oh, I am not afraid of cameras,” he said, adjusting his hair with a pocket mirror, “but I would prefer to talk while my hair is like this.”

L didn’t see anything wrong with it. “Okay.”

Light took another ten minutes. _Deliberately_ , L thought, and listened to the soft ticks of the clock.

“Yagami-kun is very crafty,” L said.

They were walking off to a coffee shop, their steps slow and calculated. It was hard to glare at each other when they were out in public, but L managed well. Light, unfazed, simply gazed ahead.

“You’re a pleasant guy, Ryuga,” Light said. “I will be glad to have a friend in To-Ho. We are both First Years, after all.”

“Yagami-kun has a lot of friends already.”

“And you have none,” Light said, not unkindly. “It’s the same, really. Socializing is important.”

“Friends are not,” L replied. “Not the ones you have already.”

Light paused. The door clanged as he pushed it open. “Yes,” Light said. “I was hoping you would understand, Ryuga, of all people.”

“Because Light-kun is the first person I ever liked,” L said.

He couldn’t see Light, but there was a gasp behind him. Matsuda murmured something along the lines of “No way, he is _really_ a social recluse”, and if Matsuda can see the lie, surely Light can see through it, too. 

Light said, “I miss you at school. We should play tennis again, sometimes.”

L sipped his coffee, turned to him. Eyes like his can only say lies. “Yes,” he said.

Because Yagami Light understood, of all people, why he was lying.

_The Fall_

“You’re being dismissive.”

Light curled his lips. The chain rattled between them, a sound, then nothing. “Is that too much of a stretch when I say I don’t want to shower with you?”

“It’s suspicious behavior.”

“I’m not running away.”

L cupped his face with a hand, thoughtful. The chain rattled further as he did. “Control is absolute,” L said. “Physically, I suppose. Mental control is the unofficial goal, but I will let you know that it’s on the agenda, Light-kun.”

Light’s face twitched. He looked at L. “Nothing radiates control off you.”

L stared right back. “I can change.”

“No one changes unless they have to,” Light said. “Unless they are wrong.”

They stood before the bathroom door, no one more willing than the other, and the question left hanging.

“I need a shower,” Light insisted, eyes on the colored wall and the modeling motifs, the impersonality of it all. “In fact, I’m desperate. I wouldn’t care if you come with me. If that’s your plan, then I am more than happy to defy it.”

L brought his thumb to his lips, the chain rattled. Light had pushed the bathroom door open, their bare feet padding on the floor.

“Does Light-kun ever eat more than one meal per day?”

Light stopped undressing, a sliver of skin taut against bones. Their gazes met in the mirror. “Do you eat anything other than cakes?”

“Sometimes fruits.”

“Sugar-coated strawberries.”

“Honeyed cantaloupe.”

“Powdered donuts.”

L pulled his shirt over his head. The voice came out muffled. “Light-kun is very skinny.”

Light folded his clothes one by one, his hands flattening out the wrinkles. “I don’t want to answer an accusation from a skeleton,” Light said dispassionately. The water ran unbidden, and steam rose to walls, coating his vision.

“Light-kun is very vain,” L observed.

“Talk again when you have empirical evidence.”

“Your posture,” L said. “Your clothes. Your pattern of speech. Your entire body. Light-kun is evidence on his own.”

Light pulled the curtains. “Get in the shower.”

“I am not partial to showering. I just wanted to see how Light-kun will react to my proposal.”

Light shut the curtains close.

“I don’t want to eat that,” Light said plainly. “Get this monstrosity away from my face.”

“It’s cake.”

“You expect me to take this round mold composed more or less of five hundred grams of granulated sugar as food.”

“The ingredients are closely related.”

Light’s eyes gleamed, reflected by the monitors. “The investigation is still on, L.”

“Why is Light-kun so repulsed with the action of eating?”

“I don’t like sugar.”

“I’m wounded,” L deadpanned.

Light leaned further into the screen, his face a soft glow. “We have a lead. We have a suspect. Suspects, whatever. We will catch Kira and you will stop bugging me about food.”

The investigative team murmured theories behind their back; strategies; useless, spineless, inarticulate thoughts. Light’s back was turned from them, and L found himself understanding why.

“Light-kun’s definition of control is staggeringly different from normal people’s,” L remarked, turning to his own monitor. “I still believe that there is some percentage of vainness thrown into the mix, however, so I am not exactly wrong when I say that Light-kun controls his caloric intake for appearance’s sake.”

Light didn’t look back. His fingers flew easily across the keyboard, his smile firm and confident. “It is not polite,” he said, “to get into someone’s head without permission.”

“I apologize. I will not notice Light-kun next time,” L answered readily. The content in Light’s computer made him smile. “Although I should advise Light-kun to not hack into the system. Especially since I would give Light-kun the password if he just asked.”

“Ah,” Light said without looking up. “That’s where _your_ definition of control creeps in.”

L craned his neck to the side. “Hm?”

Light’s hand moved along the buckle of the chain. “Isn’t it?”

Never they would look at each other when it mattered. “Yes,” L said eventually, “I suppose so.”

Light laughed quietly. He moved a hand on the table and tapped. The chain made a sound along with it, but L only noticed the hand, and what it said.

L bit his thumb, chewed on the pad of it and settled it on the table. _“The_ _Japanese education system is fascinating_ ,” he replied in English. It was only courteous. “ _Teenagers with an affinity for Morse code. Wouldn’t recommend quoting the Bible, though, given that Kira has an apparent God-complex.”_

The smile did not waver. The boy didn’t even blink. The finger moved. _Suits you, though._

 _It does_ , L conceded, returning the gesture. “ _But the verse addresses more accuracy to Light-kun than me,”_ he said.

_Translated it in English. For you._

_Hardly necessary._

Light moved away from the screen, his eyes wide and gleaming.

“ _Ou tu préfères que je le traduise en français?_ ”

“ _Light-kun sait bien que je ne viens pas de France_.”

“Ah,” Light said. “ _Aber du sprichst Deutsch, ja?_ ”

" _Now Light-kun is just bragging.”_

Light hummed, his finger moving circles before tapping out, _Testing the waters._

L didn’t have time for games, those subliminally simple, chatter-like plays of a child. There was an intimacy in casual games, in casual understanding- perhaps the worst kind of intimacy- perhaps the only one that mattered- L removed his hand from the desk, and chewed on it.

Light tapped, irritated by the unresponsiveness. _B-o-r-e-d?_

L just chewed, his head coming to rest on his legs. “Light-kun is different from when we first meet,” L said instead.

Light frowned, his hand returning to the keyboard. “So what?”

“I think,” L said, “that I know Light-kun better than he knows himself.”

“I am not Kira,” Light said.

The chain clattered as Light rose from his chair with a huff. They had gotten around it, used by the length of the chain and the weight that it carried, an obstacle they could avoid if they cooperate, if they stood close enough to alienate any cause for disruption of movement. It was an obstacle that they avoided instinctively. Animals couldn’t have adapted better to a cage.

“You are being dismissive, L,” Light said. “You’re being difficult.”

“Yes,” L said, he thought, for the second time that day, “I suppose so.”

And the question, cool to the touch, a wisp of breath propelled further into nothingness, was felt hanging. Invisible to the eye and touch. L never liked to be touched. 

Matsuda exclaimed, “Any clues?” and the question disappeared completely, replaced by something pragmatic, touchable, true like any grasp of physical and tangible things. Light reassuring Matsuda that they will catch Kira in no time. The rattle of chains. The desire to catch a serial killer. The need to see justice served. These were easy things; easy feelings. An animal running on a wheel of steel. 

L forgot why he was running in the first place.

“You’re wrong,” L said, catching Light by the arm, the skin beneath an unwrinkled white sleeve. He could have just tugged the chain; he realized the mistake too late. “You’re wrong,” he continued anyway, and forgot the answer to the question.

Light just looked at him. He looked at him for a long time. People with eyes like his cannot lie.

“We will catch Kira,” Light said at night, when the task went home, when the words managed to fill the gap between their beds. When the night fell; where none slept. “I will prove you wrong.”

Mythology was often portrayed as such. L once stood at the edge of Pallas Athene, traveled to Greece as Eraldo Coil, skirting away from the crowds only to see the statue stooping her arm high, her faceless face stoic and unmoving. Set in stone; the left-overs of a carved-up marble. Unproven because they don’t need to. There was no truth in her, and it comforted L, in a way that mattered, without understanding why.

Grey-eyed Athena, her snakes twisting and hissing on her arm, the olives green and sick. Beside him, Yagami Light sprung up from the bed and ran to the glow of the window frame, the cuff dragging across his skin.

“Light-kun is hurting my wrist.”

“You weren’t sleeping,” Light explained.

L didn’t search for an answer. Light simply turned his head to the window. _Apollo_ , L thought, and this time it felt like truth.

“When we find Kira,” Light mumbled to the frame, his voice softening. “When we find him, I will thank you.”

L lowered his gaze. Something holy in the air that forbid him from speaking. But mostly it was because he knew. He knew what Light was talking about, and Light knew what was L’s answer. L’s finger twitched on the bed, a half-word tapping on the sheet.

“I never told anyone,” Light said, “about how bored I was.”

“You don’t need to,” L said.

Light’s profile was glowing white. “I don’t need to,” Light agreed. “When we catch him, I will thank you.”

Light moved. He moved and L knew what he wanted. Light had always known what he wanted.

“I’m going to kiss you,” Light said. 

“I know that.”

Light found it funny. He smiled. “We have to pretend,” he said, “that I don’t know what you want.” And he leaned in.

And God said, keep it holy, keep it good.


End file.
